


Christmas Sweaters

by BlameMyMuses



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 00:45:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlameMyMuses/pseuds/BlameMyMuses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron comes home early one day in December.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Sweaters

**Author's Note:**

> Because my roommate has evil EVIL prompts...and the muses demand I listen to them. :/
> 
> Cross-posted on FFN (as Bornofstarlight) and on Tumblr (as blame-my-muses).

Ron was the one who found her, sitting in her usual chair, when he came home early one day in early December. She was sitting there, just staring out the window so he couldn't see her face.

"'Lo, Mum," he said, shedding his coat and moving through towards the kitchen to put the kettle on. "Do you want tea?" he called. When she didn't respond, he paused, turning to look over his shoulder. The kitchen door was open just far enough that he could see her feet and the edge of her knitting basket. Ron swallowed a nervous lump in his throat, as the sudden awareness that something was wrong flooded him.

"Mum?" he asked, and went back through the door. She turned away from the window as he came to crouch just in front of her chair, a hand on her knee. "Mum, you all right?"

Stupid question, really. There were tear tracks running down her cheeks, and her hands were shaking. She rested on hand on his arm, fingers absently tracing the scars that wrapped around his forearm. She began to cry again, and it was all Ron could do to let her lean forward and bury her face in his shoulder. After all, hadn't she done the same for him when he was little? He looked around, trying to find whatever it was that had upset her. There was nothing out of place but her knitting, which seemed to have fallen from her hands to the floor.

"I'm a fool, Ronnikins," she said, her voice muffled.

"Oh, Mum, you're not!" he protested. She pulled away, and he dug a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her. "What's wrong, then?"

Her lips trembled and she didn't speak, but her eyes strayed to her knitting basket. He looked too, but saw nothing but what looked like several finished sweaters for Christmas. He spotted the familiar maroon, but stifled his groan.

"I was knitting," she said at last, though that part was plain. Ron looked at her, concerned. Voice small, she continued. "I had finished yours, and Percy's, and George's, so I..." Her voice broke, and the tears redoubled. Her hand fluttered a bit as she gestured at the half-finished sweater at her feet. Ron picked it up, mindful of the needles still entangled in the yarn. Blue with a gold letter.

An F.

"Oh, Mum," he said, understanding.

"I forgot," she said. "I forgot," she said again, and began to cry all the more. Ron just knelt there, and hugged her.


End file.
